


Well that was...uh.

by rowanashke



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Public Blow Jobs, Sherlock Being Sherlock, straight men being confused
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-31
Updated: 2014-03-31
Packaged: 2018-01-17 17:34:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1396540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rowanashke/pseuds/rowanashke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John hasn't been around Sherlock long when Sherlock decides to...well. John's not sure what it is-stress relief? Sherlock being a jerk? Something else? But it was...uh. Nice. Yeah. Up until the end, anyway. </p>
<p>(Not set in the DBITO universe; stand-alone plotbug. Shameless PWP that wouldn't go away. )</p>
<p>John/Sherlock with hinted voyeur!Greg, fun in a dirty alley off a crime scene, confused straight John.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Well that was...uh.

**Author's Note:**

> As I said in the summary, this doesn't have any place in the Domestic Bliss series. This was the mostly just my brain wanting to write porn. Stupid brain. Mmmmmporn. Yeah, ok. So here, submitted for your enjoyment, a tiny bit of Sherlock and John naughtiness. 
> 
> Enjoy.

John hadn’t been chasing after Sherlock for very long, but already he knew that look on Sherlock’s face. Something had occurred to the detective that no-one else had seen, and Sherlock was gloating.

It was a good thing he was so amazingly spectacular, because John had a feeling that he could get to dislike the man. Sherlock’s amazing parts had so far managed to overcome his more annoying traits-which were not all concentrated in the flat, unfortunately-and John was still fascinated enough to override the little voice in the back of his mind that was telling him that hanging around with Sherlock might actually be a pretty bad idea. He’d already been kidnapped once, although that turned out to be weirder than John had anticipated.

But to be there when Holmes laid it out all, crystal-clear and completely obvious once it had been pointed out…that was breathtaking, and John would have regretted it forever if he’d walked out because the bloody genius didn’t seem to realized that mold was disgusting and needed to be thrown out, not encouraged to grow and studied. For science, of course.

And there he went, prodded by an impatient Lestrade. Point after point, deduction after deduction, pointing out things that here, in hindsight, incredibly transparent but that no one had noticed-or would have noticed-if he hadn’t been there.

When he was done, John took a deep breath, feeling dizzy. “You are so amazing.”

Sherlock’s eyes met his and they stared at each other for a long moment. “Excuse us,” Sherlock said, not breaking their gaze. “I need to discuss something with my associate.”

Reaching out, Sherlock hooked his fingers into John’ s jacket and dragged him after. Startled, John allowed it, not fighting as Sherlock pulled him into a darkened alley and shoved him against the wall.

“Tell me again.” Sherlock said, his eyes still locked with john’s.

John felt his mouth drying under the almost unearthly gaze, his knees feeling weirdly weak. “That was, I mean , you’re just…incredible.” John said honestly. He had no idea what was going on here but he had no strength or desire to push away from Sherlock.

“John..” Sherlock said softly, and then he was kissing John.

Several things went through John’s head at that moment, all jumbled together weirdly.

_I’m not gay_ was first.

_Probably_ was second, just by a second.

_I really have to stop this_ came eventually.

In the meanwhile, he was kissing Sherlock back with everything he had, mewling in pleasure.

Eventually the kiss broke; panting, John stared up into Sherlock’s eyes, dazed.

Sherlock snorted, his eyes flickering over John’s face. “You’re straight?”

“Uh huh,” John said, flying in the face of the evidence out of sheer bloody stubbornness.

“Mmm.” Sherlock’s eyes flickered again. Then that smile came, that _Hah, I solved the case_ smile that made John shiver so much.

“Well then. I’ll do something… _straightish_ for you.” Sherlock said.

John bit his lip, poised exactly between terror and anticipation.

He continued to teeter on that fine edge as Sherlock flipped out his coat and then sank to his knees, his movements sure and elegant. Smirking up at John, Sherlock brought his hands up to unzip Jon’s pants.

“What are you…” John tried. He really did.

“I think even you should be able to guess where this heading, John.” Ah, yes, that was Sherlock, snarky and insulting even on his knees in a dirty back-alley about to…

_Oh, god, I…_

That was about the end of John’s coherent thoughts as Sherlock’s clever, cool fingers slipped in and drew John’s already half-hard cock out of his trousers. Of all the days to go commando…but he’d not gotten to the laundry and had thought it better to go without than wear dirty ones. _I’m never wearing pants again_ , the weird thought that zoomed across his brain and then went away.

Sherlock wasted no time; he fisted John’s cock at the base and sucked the head into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the sensitive end before flattening it and pressing himself down, causing a series of panted, low, completely embarrassing whimpers to escape John’s lips as he watched that pale, beautiful man’s face impale itself on his dick. Hands scrabbled at the wall, restlessly, as John was completely unsure as to whether gripping Sherlock’s head was on or not. He rather thought not.

Sherlock began to bob, slowly at first, his wicked tongue doing terrible things as it slithered and slurped around John’s throbbing member. Gasping, John had to break off staring, tilting his head back to stare mindlessly at the sky instead.

Then Sherlock started doing… _something_ , god it involved suction and twisting and _oh, god, he’s deep-throating me, I can’t…_ and John’s hands went to Sherlock’s hair despite his earlier reservations, his hips bucking mindlessly, fingers twisting in dark, silky curls, his head falling back to smack roughly against the brick…

It didn’t take very long. A mortifyingly short period of time later, John lost all his brain functions as he thrust one more time into that perfect mouth and emptied his balls, groaning in pleasure. Sherlock took it all, swallowing with expert care, his tongue milking every single last drop of semen from John’s twitching member before he pulled off, looking rather smug and terribly pleased with himself.

John carefully untangled his fingers, then awkwardly smoothed the rumpled hair down, trying to catch his breath and figure out exactly what he should be saying right now. If anything. What did you say when your flat mate and…his brain stuttered a bit at the word _friend_ …person you’d known for less than a week suddenly gave you a surprise blowjob in an alley just off a crime scene?

_I wonder if this sort of thing is going to happen a lot_ , he wondered rather dazedly. _And I wonder why I’m not much more upset at that thought. Fuck me._

“Are you quite done?” The voice came from the alley mouth; John felt himself freeze, his neck creaking as his head slowly turned to look at the person who had spoken.

_Oh, yes. This is just what I need._ Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade, looking harried and slightly annoyed, was standing there giving them both the exact same look John’s mother had given him the one and only time she’d caught him wanking in the bathroom. Disappointment, mostly.

“Yes, Inspector, we are.” Sherlock, sounding utterly unruffled even though he was speaking through lips puffy from sucking another man’s cock and currently brushing dirt from his immaculate trousers. “Did you need something?”

“Yeah.” Greg said, rolling his eyes. “We found the victim’s phone and it’s got some weird texts on it. Thought you might want to take a look.”

“Yes.” Sherlock turned, without a backward glance at the still-rumpled, exposed John, and stalked out of the alley. Greg turned to follow him, then turned back, giving John a weird look that John couldn’t even begin to unravel right now.

“Don’t pull on his hair,” Greg said finally. “He really doesn’t like it.”

Then Greg turned and left, leaving John gaping after him.

After a moment, John belatedly stuffed his dick into his trousers and zipped up, his mind still blank.

_Am I really just going to go out there and pretend that nothing just happened?_

“John. Come here, I want you to look at this!” Sherlock, impatient but eager.

_Well. I guess the answer is….yes._

John pushed off the wall, stumbling a bit.

_And I guess that says a lot more about me than I wish it did,_

was his last thought in the alley.

…


End file.
